Anointed Flower

I am an anointed flower nodding heavily listening to the crickets drowning song afraid the iris of my eyes baited hook will close; with dusty lost impressions- all roots must have motes of light diminutive fingers clutching onto stars all roots must have oven-baked loaves feeding the mouth of a songbird not heard- singing, since the Garden of Eden. I am anointed fly-foam in a mirror image I decay from this dew lit world, wilt and fall in petals around a mountain of ice in clouds of historic ancient mist in waters bowelled in a canyons cave not a word, not a sentence was said I had already been deemed long dead the day I was born, a flower of ash, swabbed golden hatched in a bee's cell.